


Staring Down the Barrel

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: When the memories become too much to bear, no one is left unscathed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Part of the Bobby!John ‘Verse. John (Age 40), Dean (Age 14), Sammy (Age 10)

  
Author's notes: Part of the Bobby!John ‘Verse. John (Age 40), Dean (Age 14), Sammy (Age 10)  


* * *

Bobby knew that John Winchester hated holidays with a passion. Since his Mary had died, the only holiday they really celebrated was the boys’ birthdays and even those John didn't make too big of a deal over. He tended to get them something practical which, after they turned ten years old, was always some kind of weapon. But the winter Dean was fifteen Bobby got a call that nearly broke his heart. He had wanted nothing more than to put his fist through a wall when he heard Dean's shaky voice on the other end of the line.

 

"Bobby... I need you to come and get Sammy..."

 

He didn’t need to ask a lot of questions as to what was going on. It was pretty clear by the strain in Dean’s voice that John was on a bender, a damn good one. He got the information he needed: what state, town, and motel. He grabbed his denim jacket from the back of the kitchen table and gave a whistle for Bastion as he headed out to the truck. The dog was still barely more than a puppy but he had been trained well by Dean and Sam, knew his commands and didn’t hesitate to follow them. Just in case John tried to stop him, Bobby thought to himself, just in case. Not to mention it would give Sam something to hold onto until they could get back here to the homestead.

 

He found the boys huddled together in the backseat of the Impala. Sammy was sleeping with his head in Dean's lap and Dean looked like he hadn't slept in days. "I bought him more booze..." Dean confessed first thing to Bobby with guilt. "He broke the TV and... and he was getting louder. I didn't want the motel owner to call the cops. Sammy asked to visit mom's grave... that's when it started..."

 

Bobby swore under his breath. Leave it to John to go for the bottle instead of trying to talk to his boys about Mary. Stupid son of a bitch needed a good ol’ fashioned brawl to remind him what an idiot he was. “He pass out yet?”

 

Dean ran his hand over Sammy's hair, not once looking up into Bobby’s face. He wasn't wearing his coat because it was draped over his brother. "I don't know."

 

Bobby shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over to Dean. Damn kid was in nothing more than a pair of sleep pants and an old AC/DC tee shirt in twenty degree weather. Not even a pair of socks on his feet. “I’m gonna go check in on him. Put Sammy in my truck with Bastion.” He waited for Dean’s very silent ‘yes, sir’ then he was heading to motel door number seven.

 

Bobby didn’t bother knocking and opened the overly bright red door. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the flickering neon sign in the parking lot, but he could see John sitting on the floor by the bed. There were empty Jack Daniel’s bottles scattered around the room and Bobby could smell the lingering cigarette smoke.

 

John didn’t even look up from his spot on the floor, just reached between his legs and brought the fresh bottle of liquor up to his lips. A revolver sat next to him and a sawed off shotgun was propped up on John’s other side. The journal was laying face down a few feet away, pieces of news clipping hanging half in and out of it. Bobby knew that trying to talk to John at this point was useless. This smashed, the man was just looking for a fight and as much as Bobby would love to give him one, he needed to get the boys back to safety. He spotted Sammy’s duffel and strode over to it, zipping it up and slinging it over his shoulder. 

 

“Was my boy that called ya, wasn't it?” John asked in a heavily slurred voice. "Dunno why, I don' need ya."

 

“Nah, course ya don’t need me, Johnny-boy. Why would ya? You got your good friend J.D. takin’ care of you right now. Hope he does one hell of a job. Never cared for him much myself. He’s a lot like a whore. Makes ya feel all great the night before and leaves ya feelin’ dirty and sick the next day.” His tone was clipped and angry but what he really felt was dead inside, watching as John drank himself into oblivion and added to his boys own insecurities. Bobby rooted around in Dean’s duffle bag, making sure everything was there. He hefted it onto his other shoulder. Grabbing the canister of salt still sitting out on the nightstand, he walked back to the door redoing the lines just to be safe. 

 

He left John alone in the dark room, hoping he would stop wallowing in self pity sooner rather than later. He found that Dean had transferred Sammy to his truck, but was standing outside the passenger’s side door looking in as Sammy was licked in the face by the dog. Dean looked both happy and sad to hear Sammy laughing.

 

"Thanks for coming to get Sammy."

 

Bobby tossed Dean his duffle and leaned against the side door. “Didn’t just come for him. Taking you, too. Get in the cab.”

 

Dean took off Bobby's coat and held it out for him to take. "I can't go. He needs me."

 

“What he needs right now is to sleep all this off. Ain’t gonna do you a bit of good to go back in there, Dean. He’s lookin’ to get in a fight and cause some damage. Only thing you’re gonna do is get in that truck before I put you there myself. I ain’t lettin’ you go back in there and be his scapegoat for the night. You hear me?” Bobby took a step forward and opened the passenger door. “Get in this truck.”

 

Sammy had stopped playing with Bastion and looked at the both of them with wide eyes. “Dean?” 

 

"It's nothing I haven't dealt with before," Dean snapped at both of them. "Bobby'll take care of you, Sammy. Dad's just not feeling well right now. When's he's better we'll come and get you, okay?"

 

Sammy shrunk back against the seat and turned his face into the dog’s fur. “Okay, Dean.” His voice was muffled and sounded defeated. Any other time Sam would have challenged his brother. He’d been doing that a lot as of late. Bobby knew that the kid had seen more than he should have tonight if he was willing to just let himself be carried away from the motel room and his family.

 

Bobby shut the door and grabbed Dean by the arm, steering him to the back of the truck. He gave the boy a shove against the tailgate, hating the way Dean hissed at the impact to his back. “That hurt? That’s nothing compared to what will happen if your daddy decides he wants to take it out on you. I know you can take care of yourself but you ain’t grown, Dean. Not by a long shot. You wanna stay with your old man, fine. But I’m tellin’ you right now, things get bad you take the Impala and high tail it out of here. My house, another motel, I don’t care where you go but you get somewhere.” The anger was fading in Bobby but it was replaced with a deep sense of sadness. He reached up and patted Dean’s cheek. “Damn stubborn Winchesters. Don’t know why I keep turning up to save your butts all the time.”

 

Dean refused to look Bobby in the eye, not wanting the man to see any hint of the fear he was really feeling inside. "You shouldn’t have to be the one to have to deal with him when he's like that. It's not fair. Just promise me you'll take care of Sammy."

 

Bobby turned his head and looked up at the night sky strewn over with grey clouds. “Yeah well, that’s what families do, Dean. They deal with all of it, not just the happy parts.” He turned to look back at the boy…no, not boy. Dean was more a man now than he liked to admit to himself. “Don’t worry a bit about Sammy. You know I’ll take care of him until you drag his,” Bobby inclined his head towards the motel room, “butt back through my front door. You just be careful.” Bobby started back around the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. He reached across Sammy and Bastion and rolled down the window. “Sammy, tell your brother goodnight. He and your daddy are gonna meet back up with us at the house in a day or so.”

 

The brothers never exchanged words. Sammy had flung the door open and was hugging Dean for all he was worth. They never said goodbye, because Winchesters didn't do that. Sammy cried openly and clung to Bastion as Bobby drove away from the motel. He looked in the rear-view mirror to see Dean watching them, small form growing smaller by the minute. The boy never took his eyes off of the truck that Bobby could tell.

 

Bobby’s worries were evident in the fact that he barely spoke when they got back to the house. He tucked Sammy into the bottom bunk bed with Bastion sleeping at the foot of it. He watched as Sammy tossed and turned in his sleep, scooting and reaching around the bed for something to hold onto and finding it empty. His brother not there to offer him the comfort he usually received after such a long day. He started out the door and then stopped, turning back to find Sammy awake and watching him. No words were said, he just pulled off his boots, leaving them at the door. Sliding into the bed, he let Sammy curl around him. He brushed a soft kiss against the boy’s head and heard him whimper just slightly. “Dean…”

 

Somewhere on a lonely stretch of highway several hours away, Dean answered his brother in a broken cry as his father slammed him back against the wall of a dingy, dank motel room.

 

******

 

Bobby didn't even hear the roar of the Impala's engine before Sammy took off like a shot, Bastion right on his heels. The boy hadn’t even bothered to put a jacket or boots on before he was out the front door. Bobby sometimes wondered about the spooky connection the boys shared.

 

A cold waft of air made its way through the house. Sammy obviously had left the door standing right wide open. He sighed and grabbed his jacket, shrugging into it as he headed out. He ended up stopping on the porch, right behind Sammy who was standing as if frozen on the bottom step.

 

"I don't see anything..." Bobby said.

 

"They're coming," Sammy insisted. "I can feel it."

 

“Why don’t you wait inside then instead of out here? You’ll end up…” Bobby stopped mid-sentence when the sound of the Impala’s engine reached his ears. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

 

Sammy's feet were freezing and he was jumping from foot to foot in nervous anticipation. Bastion sensed his excitement and started barking. But as the Impala got closer, Sammy went from having an excited happy grin to a scowl crossing his face. "Something's wrong..."

 

That instantly got Bobby’s attention more than the Impala gunning its way up the driveway. Sammy just knew things sometimes. Could be from where he was so close to his family, but again… spooky. It became apparent exactly how wrong the whole thing was when the car stopped and Bobby got a good glimpse at the faces through the glass.

 

“Holy Mary mother of God,” was all Bobby could say as he started off the steps. Was that Dean’s arm in a sling1? And the bruises… Bobby yanked the car door open and leaned in, turning Dean’s head to look at him. He didn’t stop the look of disgust on his face, just let it be seen because he knew John was watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, Dean. C’mon out of there. I want you to go up to your room and lie down for a bit.” Bobby turned to look over his shoulder. “Sammy, go get your brother an icepack. Make sure he lies down like I told him.” He waited a beat, helping Dean carefully out of the car before leaning across the empty seat. “Unless you want your boys hearing what I got to say to you, I’d be heading for the workshop.” He slammed the passenger door with finality.

 

John looked rough and in pain. He hadn't shaved in over a week and the bender had taken its toll on him, bloodshot eyes and dark bags beneath them. But more than anything, waking up from his stupor to find Dean cradling his head was the cause of his anguish. "Bobby... I think he might have a concussion, too."

 

Bobby turned to look at John, who was leaning heavily on the open door of the Impala. He started to speak, then shut his mouth. He left John standing out there, really not caring what the hell he did. Dean needed attention first and foremost. He found Sammy stuffing pillows behind Dean’s back, trying to get him to sit up a bit. The kid was trying damn hard to hide the amount of pain he was in and that only made Bobby’s fury burn brighter. “Why didn’t you call me? I told you to call me if things went south with him.”

 

"I hit him back," Dean offered, as if that explained everything. As if fighting back nullified his own bruises and pain. "It's not that bad."

 

Bobby laughed harshly. “Not that bad? Not that bad!? Did you *not* look in a mirror, Dean? How bad does it have to be for you to call me? You have to be dying on a cheap motel room floor? Do you have any idea at all what your brother’s been through not hearing from you? Your father could have killed you in some drunken rage and that’s the last thing I want to have to tell Sammy. Did you even think of that!?” Bobby leaned over Dean and held him roughly by the chin, looking into the boy’s eyes. Definitely a concussion. “Christ, Dean.” His hold on the boy lessened. He’d been through enough as it was. 

 

Sammy had heard every word Bobby had said. He had thought Dean had gotten injured in a hunt, but now he knew it was his father who’d cause it all. "I'm gonna kill him..." Sam muttered, backing away from them and then turning to run out the door.

 

“Sammy, no!” Dean yelled from the bed, but Bobby held him in place.

 

“I’ll take care of it. You’ve done enough fighting these last two days.” Bobby turned and made a run for the door, scrambling out into the yard with just enough time to see Sammy barrelling straight into John.

 

Sammy swung at his father, who automatically shifted out of the way to avoid the strike. John ended up with Sammy in a bear hug, the boy ineffectively pummelling his chest. "You hurt him!" Sammy yelled out the accusation with teary eyes.

 

Bobby watched as John grunted a bit, obviously in pain as it was. _Served him right,_ Bobby thought. _He needs to see that what he does affects all of them, not just himself._ After a few seconds of watching John plead with Sammy to stop, Bobby came up behind the boy and wrapped his arms around his waist. He hefted the boy up over his shoulder and started back for the house, this time his back taking the full brunt of the attack.

 

"Put me down!" Sammy shrieked. He lifted his head up and looked back at his father. “I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

 

Once back inside, Bobby sat Sam down on the bed then looked at Dean. “You tell him what happened, Dean. All of it. The whole thing. The reason why your dad started the bender all the way up to the drive here. He needs to know the truth. No secrets, remember? You keep him here. You’re daddy and I are gonna to have a nice long chat.”

 

Sammy clung to Dean who began to whisper nonsense to him, getting him to calm down. Bobby knew the best place for either boy was with each other right now. He had unfinished business with the father. 

 

He walked out to the workshop in the back of the house and found John staring at picture Dean had drawn when he was about seven years old. Bobby kept it tacked up to his workshop wall even though he never had been sure what it was.

 

“You take a good long look at the picture, Johnny-boy. Dean hasn’t been that kid for years now. Next time you feel the need to go round the bend and beat your boy you remember that you stood out here lookin’ at that. You’re lucky I don’t finish the job he started on you.” 

 

John reached out and traced the faded crayon lines. "I don't remember much... I just remember being pissed... he told me off..." John's voice was low and dead. "He never talked like that to me before. I wanted to shut him up. All I could think about was what Mary would think..."

 

“Well, guess what, John? Mary’s dead. Been dead for years now. Your boys, they ain’t. Not yet, but you keep lettin’ your head take a field trip with the booze like this and you’re gonna end up makin’ them just as dead as your wife, you hear me!?” Bobby was right up in John's personal space now and he watched as the sadness turned to a burning bright fury.

 

"You sayin’ I might kill my boys?" John asked in a dangerous tone. Bobby had been more than a friend and closer than a brother for years, but no man said that to him. "I love my boys. They're my flesh and blood, which is more than I can say for you."

 

“There ain’t no **might** in that sentence, Winchester. You’re already killin’ ‘em. Every time you get rip-roarin’ drunk right in front of them they die just a bit more inside because they don’t know what to do to **FIX** you. They don’t want a drunk they want their damn father!”

 

"They can't fix a man that's broken!" John yelled at Bobby. "They might not want it, but they've got a goddamn drunk for a father. I’m a broken down, washed out drunk."

 

“Ten percent of the time you are a nasty drunk but then ninety percent of the time you’re a decent, caring, and loving father to those boys. Can’t help the fact that you’re a one hundred percent asshole at any giving moment though!” Bobby pointed a finger in John’s face. “I swear to god, Johnny, if you don’t get your act together…”

 

John turned away from Bobby and picked up a wrench, feeling its weight. He patted it against the flat of his palm. "You'll take them from me?" John asked. He rubbed his thumb along the cold metal. "I've thought sometimes... of leaving them here. That they’d be better off without me."

 

“You know damn well that the minute I turned my back they’d be after you. That’s the scary part of all this. It doesn’t matter so much to them about these… spells you go through. Damn it, John, can’t you see how much they need you? You’re all they got left.” Bobby reached out and covered John’s hand with his own. With his other, he took the wrench setting it back onto the work bench. “You scare the hell out of me when you drink like that. I can only imagine how Sam and Dean felt watching you.”

 

John didn’t need to imagine. He just had to look in his either one of his son’s eyes. "You know what the scariest part is, Bobby?" John said more than asked. "I'm more afraid of what I'll do if I **don't** drown out some of my darkness with the whiskey. You have no idea how bad it gets. What I think of doing..."

 

Bobby took a deep breath and leaned back against the dusty counter top. They needed some kind of contingency plan for this. This was the worst bender that John had been on. Most of the time it just involved mixing it up with the local cops or some idiot who ran his mouth at the bar. Now, that anger and pain was boiling over and having a more adverse affect on how he treated his children. He was no fool and knew that with every year that passed and the demon that killed Mary Winchester haunted the earth was just another weight on John’s already overburdened shoulders.

 

“Alright then, this is what we’re gonna do from here on out. You need an outlet. You think you need to drown yourself in booze… fine. You bring your ass back here, ASAP. I call Jim. Get him to take the boys for a few days. If you’re here, you’re not out getting yourself into more trouble. Not like there’s much you can wreck around here as it is.”

 

It sounded like a sensible plan. Bobby was always cleaning up his messes, but John wasn’t sure there was any way Bobby could fix this. His friend had to know how bad it had gotten. “I had the gun in my mouth, Bobby.”

 

Bobby groaned and ran a hand over his face. "John, please tell me Dean wasn’t present for that."

 

"He wasn't. He's the only reason I didn't," John admitted, shaking his head. "Bobby, I don't know what's happening..."

 

"C'mon." Bobby steered John around by the shoulders. "You need to get a shower. Then you need to go see your boys. They're hurting just as much as you are. You get cleaned up, go tuck them in, and then you're going to bed yourself. Don't even try to argue with me on it, Winchester, cuz I will tie your ass to the bed if I have to at this point. Then tomorrow morning, you're gonna sit down and listen to what your boys have to say to you. Family meeting and I don't care if that goes against your touchy-feely anti-sentimental bullshit or not."

 

The anger and sorrow was pulling him down again. He had to say what kept nagging at him and picking at his conscious. “Maybe it’d have been easier on them if I had pulled the trigger.”

 

Bobby didn't even realize what he did until John was glaring up at him from the dirty floor of the workshop. The sting on his knuckles was too real.

 

"Don't you... **EVER**...say something like that! How in the hell would it be easier for them? Your oldest son saw his mother die in that fire and then he'd have to deal with you committing suicide on top of it. Do you even realize how much he looks up to you? He'd no doubt find a way to make it all his fault. And Sammy... you stupid arrogant prick!" Bobby turned around and reached into the bottom of a toolbox, pulling out a .45. “You wanna end it all, John… here.” He tossed the gun down onto the floor. “Go right ahead. End your sorry excuse of an existence. Just make sure you cover the barrel with a rag or something so the boys don’t hear it when it goes off!” 

 

John spat out mouthful of blood onto the floor. He picked up the .45 and caressed the weapon, spinning the barrel and checking to see if it was loaded. "I thought about it right after Mary died. But I knew I couldn't because whatever killed her would come after my boys.”

 

“So, suck it up then, man. Stop wallowin’ around in your damn self-pity. Your kids need you, John.”

 

John was still looking at the gun. He had killed so many people starting in Vietnam. Even then the darkness lurked just under the surface, but Mary had helped to keep it at bay. John wanted to listen to Bobby, but the edge was so close. His thumb went to the safety and clicked if it off. He'd hit his boy... his beautiful, strong son.

 

“Dad?” John whirled around to find Dean standing in the doorway, watching him with wide eyes set in a bruised and scratched face. “What the hell, Dad!?”

 

Bobby didn't give John a chance to answer. He smashed his large fist into John's face again, this time with more force and watched as the man slumped to the floor, gun skittering sideways until it stopped a few feet from Dean. He wanted to trust that seeing his boy there would pull him away from the edge, but he wasn't willing to risk that. "Dean, its okay..."

 

Dean stared at his father’s form lying passed out on the floor of the workshop. Mouth open and closing in disbelief, he took a step forward and picked up the gun. “Why? Why is he doing this to himself?” Dean’s hands shook as he turned the safety back on. He looked up at Bobby with frightened eyes. “I’m doing everything right, Bobby. I watch out for Sammy. I follow his orders. All of that and he won't let me take care of him."

 

Bobby sighed as he took the gun from Dean and emptied the chamber. "Dean, you've just learned a tough lesson today. Sometimes no matter what we do the people we love will still try to destroy themselves." Then he looked Dean straight in the eyes. "But, that doesn't mean we ever stop trying to save them."

 

******

 

John stared up at the off-white ceiling, trying hard to lie completely still. His whole body was nothing more than one screaming bundle of pain. He could barely see out of his left eye from the two punches he’d taken from Bobby. He tried to make himself see reason, understand exactly why his hands were handcuffed to the headboard of Bobby’s bed. He remembered the gun, looking at it, thumbing off the safety. Now that he was a little more clear-headed this morning, he felt a deep sense of shame for even thinking about it. And poor Dean, seeing him like that out in the workshop. John sighed and closed his eyes. He wanted out of the damn cuffs but knew it wouldn’t be so soon. No, now he was going to have to listen. And if Bobby followed through with his initial threat the night before, both of his boys would be coming in here with him. A nice long, horrible conversation between all of them.

 

“I know you're awake, Winchester," Bobby's voice rang in his ears. "And I hope you're in a lot of pain. Because you're lucky to be feeling anything now."

 

John opened the one eye that had the least amount of damage done to it. Sure enough, there stood Bobby over him. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked like one pissed off grizzly bear. The man’s eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. “How are Dean and Sammy?”

 

"I sedated them, if you must know."

 

John went to wipe at his face but only got so far before the cuffs stopped the movement. He gave Bobby a glare and wiggled his hands a bit, making the cuffs rattle. “Think I can take these off now? I don’t think I can manage to sit up let alone run.”

 

Bobby reached over and jingled the cuffs. "These aren't coming off ‘til I say so," Bobby told him. Then he grabbed a washcloth from a warm bowl of water, rung it out and started to wipe John's face.

 

John tried to turn his face away only to have Bobby grab him by the chin and hold him still. “I’m not an invalid ya know. I got wasted, didn't turn into a vegetable.”

 

"You can't be trusted to take care of yourself, so I'm gonna do it for you."

 

“Oh, that’s rich comin’ from you. You spend more time behind closed doors than anyone I’ve ever met. You barely even go out to hunt anymore. What do you know about what I need!?” John’s legs shifted a bit under the sheet covering him. 

 

"You'd be surprised what I know about you, John Winchester." Even though Bobby's words where rough, his touch was gentle.

 

“Well, why don’t you enlighten me then? Other than being a stellar upstanding member of the community and father of the year, what else is there to tell?” John’s voice dripped with sarcasm and he winced when Bobby prodded along his bruised cheekbone.

 

"That you're a good man," Bobby told him, his fingers lingering along John's jaw. "Despite all that."

 

John looked at Bobby and shook his head just the tiniest bit. “I don’t think my boys would agree with you right now.”

 

"You're right, they probably wouldn't," Bobby agreed, "But that doesn’t mean they don't love you." Bobby's hand moved up to the handcuffs. "Now if I let you out of these things just to see the boys, are you gonna make a fuss? Cause I'd hate to mess up that pretty face more."

 

“Scout’s honour. I’m so sore right now you could knock me over with a feather anyway.” John tilted his head up to watch Bobby unfasten the cuffs.

 

"Tell me what you're gonna say to them. I'm not taking any chances on you messing with their heads more."

 

John groaned and turned on his side carefully. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole and a drunk for starters. More than anything, apologize to Dean.”

 

"That's a start," Bobby agreed. "And tell them you love them."

 

John struggled to sit up and reluctantly let Bobby help him. “Yeah well, clothes would be a good thing to have first.”

 

Bobby could have given John one of the shirts the man kept in his room, instead Bobby handed him one of his own. "Wear this and stop complaining."

 

John reached out to take the shirt from Bobby only to find his hand closing over top of the other man’s. “I... I think it might be a good idea to take a break from hunting for a bit. Maybe a week or two, until I can get my head back on straight. You mind putting up with this old stray mongrel for that long?”

 

Bobby squeezed John's fingers. "I wasn't planning on letting you leave for at least a month."

 

John couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “I don’t know if I could sit still in one place for that long. We’ll take it day by day, see how things are going. I think we should do like you suggested earlier, send the boys with Jim for a few days. Give them a chance to act like kids. Jim’ll see that they get a proper Christmas.”

 

Christmas was a few weeks away and Bobby knew John was trying to avoid the boys being there for the holiday. He never brought them around for Christmas, Easter or their birthdays, as if that would somehow tie them more to Bobby than John wanted. And he knew staying a month was bullshit and more than possible because John had used his place as a home base longer than that before. John Winchester was vulnerable right now and he didn't like it. "I think we'll play it by ear. If you're well enough, I'll have Jim bring the boys round just before Christmas."

 

John shrugged into the tee shirt and accepted a pair of sweat pants next. Every movement was stiff and slow but he was moving without too much pain this morning at least. Christmas was supposed to be a family holiday but John hated it. Hated it because an essential part of his family was missing. It brought back too many memories of him waiting at the bottom of the steps as Mary carried down a semi-awake Dean to stare in fascination at the brightly lit tree and mounds of gaily wrapped presents beneath it. And Sammy, he’d never had a Christmas with Mary, not one.

 

"You're getting lost in those memories again, Johnny," Bobby warned in a sharp tone. "Pull it together."

 

“It’s not like I can stop it,” John snapped back. He pushed himself off the bed and found the room spinning just a bit. “Did you drug me after you knocked me out last night? You know that crap messes with me.”

 

"Damn straight I drugged you," answered Bobby and was at John's side, holding him up. "And I know you hate it. Too bad. You just hate it because it takes away your control."

 

John let himself be helped for once, too tired and queasy to really protest against it. “Damn right, but then again, after last night…with the gun…well, I guess I don’t really blame you.” John paused for a second. “Alright, let’s go see my boys.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
Author's notes: Part of the Bobby!John ‘Verse. John (Age 40), Dean (Age 14), Sammy (Age 10)  


* * *

John was looking at Pastor Jim's station wagon at it drove away, snow whirling around in its wake and his fingers dug into the paint on the window sill. He didn't have to turn around to know Bobby was standing behind him. He'd been wearing a false mask for the past day or so while they waited for Jim to come. He had held it together, just like he did after Mary's death, but now his boys were safely away. "We've got a lot of unfinished business. Don't we, Singer?"

 

John didn’t even realize how close Bobby was until the moment the man spoke, directly into his ear. “You have no fuckin’ idea, John.” It was quick, faster than it had any right to be. One minute John was there at the window and the next he had been bodily turned around with Bobby pressing him against the backdoor. John’s head cracked loudly against it, pain lancing through him. It didn’t matter that he was still sore from the fight he’d had with Dean. Bobby would use it as a fresh reminder, make him spill his guts and the darkness he’d been carrying since waking up yesterday drugged and restrained to the bed.

 

John's hand shot out and he grabbed the back of Bobby's neck, digging his fingers into Bobby's skin. "I've killed men for less than what you've done to me..." John sneered at him.

 

Bobby laughed in John’s face. “You could try if ya wanted to, Johnny-boy. But we both know that right now you wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.” To prove a point, Bobby reached down and pressed his hand into John’s ribs. Hissing in pain, John tried to shift his stance in an attempt to get away. “Sorry ‘bout your luck, boy, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re gonna stand here and listen to every damn thing that I wanted to say to you that night in the shop and didn’t. No boys around now to hear anything. I damn well plan to get it though that fuckin’ thick head of yours exactly what the hell it is you’re doing to yourself and your boys.”

 

John hated it when Bobby called him 'Johnny-boy'. Bobby knew he hated it. It was usually a signal to a whole shit load of pain for both of them in the near future. "What's it matter to you anyways?"

 

“So, you wanna play dumb on this one, then? I can do that. Let’s start with your boys. You really think you’d be helping them any by blowin’ your damn brains out? You’re certainly lacking in them at times but those boys need you. And I’m thinkin’ they’re about the only thing that’s keepin’ you goin’ besides finding that damn demon that killed your precious Mary.” Bobby knew it was a low blow bringing up John’s wife, but he wanted all the anger and hatred out in the open. It was always a sure fire way to get John going. Bobby was well prepared for just about anything that his friend and lover could throw at him.

 

What John threw at him was a punch to the gut, followed by a swift push, despite the sharp pains from his ribs. Bobby stumbled back and clutched his chest, making a hissing sound. "Don't you dare even speak her name! Not her. Not from you!"

 

Bobby held his ground, staring at John, gauging each tiny movement. “Why not, Johnny-boy? You can come to me when you’re bleedin’ and hurt. We can get each other off, fuck around, but heaven forbid I bring her up. You ain’t touched a single woman since she died but somehow this thing between us seems to sit just fine with you. I ain’t her and I damn well won’t hold my fuckin’ tongue because you’ve put her on some larger than life pedestal. She wasn’t a saint!”

 

"She was my wife," John said the word with conviction. He started to circle Bobby, looking for an opening. John held up his left hand and tapped his wedding ring, with a sneer. "This means something. It's a promise. You... You're just..."

 

Bobby clenched his fists at his sides. “What, convenient…your safety net? I’ve had it up to here,” Bobby lifted one hand up over his head, “with all your emotional baggage, man. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to a memory. You loved her, I get that. But how much longer are you gonna beat yourself up? You think I enjoy having to go through the same shit with you all the time!? I’ve been your damn counsellor, your friend, your fuck buddy for way too damn long. You ever stop to think about what it is that I want out of this? You ever stop to consider what the hell it does to me every time I have to patch your broken and bloodied ass up!?”

 

"Yeah... it gives you an excuse not to get your own life," John shot back. "You like feeling sorry for yourself in your pitiful existence. Hiding out in the middle of nowhere... You always **let** me treat you like some sort of victim you think you are. 'Cause your life's sad, Bobby. You got no one else but me. You pretend my boys are your family because you're too afraid to make one for yourself after that girl and kid of yours died. I'm a walkin' talkin' excuse with a ready made family! So, who's convenient now?"

 

Bobby dove for John, his arms managing to catch onto the man’s legs because he wasn’t quick enough to get away in time. He struggled to get John pinned down and got a knee in the stomach as he practically climbed up the man. “All the more reason to make sure that you don’t fuck it up. You still got your kids, John! Two boys that totally adore you and think you’re their whole fuckin’ world! I lost my chance with Maureen and my kid. At least yours are still alive and breathin’!”

 

"For how long?" John growled back and struggled to get away, trying to kick Bobby off him. "I think about that every goddamn day, Bobby. How long before something gets one of my boys? That thing that killed my wife... it could come for Sammy any day." John closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stop the emotions from flooding in. "There's things I never told you about him..."

 

Bobby managed to sit down on John’s thighs, his hands holding John’s arms up over his head. “’Cause you’re stubborn, always thinkin’ you got ta go it alone. I don’t know what else I gotta do to prove to you that you can trust me with more than just injuries. You stupid bastard. I swear…”

 

"You want to kill me?" John challenged him. "Welcome to my world."

 

“You think you’re the only one who hurts?” Bobby let go of John’s hands and grabbed John’s face. “Did you really even look at your boys this last day and a half? Did you see how much they’re hurting because they don’t know what to think about you?”

 

"I know I'm hurting them..." John admitted and licked his dry lips. "And I can't stop. That's what hurts the most."

 

“It’s a start, you realizin’ that. But I got plans for you, Winchester. One to make sure you remember exactly what it is that happens when you get rip roarin’ drunk.” Bobby pulled back and sat up, offering one hand out to help John stand. “Go on into the other room and have a seat on the couch. I’ll be in shortly.”

 

John looked at the offered hand like it was possessed. "You think you can just order me around?"

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest instead. “It was a friendly request. Don’t think you’d want me to order you but I will if I have to.”

 

John sat up, but his eyes were focused on the floor and his hand came to rest on his knee. "I dare ya..." he said, but his tone held none of his earlier venom.

 

Bobby growled low in his throat, reaching out a hand to grab at John’s hair. He gave it a none too gentle tug, forcing the man to look up at him. “I ain’t playin’ none of your power games, John. What we’re dealin’ with is way more serious than your need for rough sex.”

 

"Bobby..." John said with a horse voice. "You may not be what I wanted... who I wanted in life, Bobby. But you're who I got. It's just you and my boys..."

 

He turned away for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts. John was never emotional, not like this. He thought watching the man the night before contemplating the gun had been the worst. It was nothing compared to this, this wreck of a man who was slipping so easily into the darkness. Bobby forced himself back around and dropped to his knees, his hands once again cupping John’s jaw but with tenderness. “What do you need, Johnny? Tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t ask for it, if you don’t want it for yourself.”

 

"I don't know..." John admitted. This was so hard for him. It was like his strength was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it. Bobby was the only one he could stand letting him see him like this, not even his Mary. He could hear his voice... the truths he spoke and John wanted it to be true. "I want it all to mean something."

 

“It’s always meant something. **Always**.” Bobby’s thumb swept along John’s cheekbones. “You’ve just started losin’ sight of the main goal.”

 

John's hand came up and grabbed Bobby's. He turned Bobby's hand, kissing his sweaty palm. "Revenge..."

 

Bobby coughed to clear his throat, which felt like it was suddenly being closed off all on its own. “Not so much revenge as avenging Mary’s death, and getting your boys prepared for just about anything.” He had to draw in a breath when John turned his head to kiss at his other palm.

 

"I didn't understand it until Vietnam when they said that your fellow soldiers would be family," John said and kissed Bobby's palm again. "They were like brothers... but every once in a while... some are closer than family. Lucky and cursed to find someone to share the pain with. Sometimes I hate you so much for not being Mary... but other times..."

 

“Other times, what?” Bobby asked, leaning forward into John’s space. “You’re not desecrating her memory, John. You really think she’d want you to be alone, for the boys to be alone?”

 

"No...." John shook his head. "Other times... you're all that holds me together."

 

Bobby waited, holding still and refusing to move an inch. He’d usually let John make the first move. It was just the way it was. He’d managed to initiate a few times, the drunken night of the first kiss, last night’s kiss… any other time John had decked him. Knowing that John needed to be the one in control had never been a real issue between them before. Now it seemed like everything was hanging in the balance.

 

"I've been with you longer than I was married to her..." John admitted in a broken whisper. His hands came up to frame Bobby's face, his thumb traced over Bobby's heavily whiskered cheek.

 

Bobby couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face or the words that came out of his mouth the next moment. “Hope you ain’t expectin’ a ring, Johnny.”

 

Despite the pain, John couldn't help but snort and shook his head. He gently shook Bobby's face his hands. "No..." He said and leaned in to kiss him, for the first time this gently in all their years together. "You're something else entirely."

 

“Always figured I was in a class all to myself,” Bobby whispered against John’s lips before leaning back in for another kiss. Testing the waters, he took John’s bottom lip between his teeth and gave a quick nip as he slid his hands around the younger man’s waist beneath the shirt to touch skin. His fingertips danced along the main scars that crisscrossed along John’s lower back. “This okay?”

 

"Yeah..." John nodded and sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. "Why do you keep putting up with me?"

 

“Well, I always had a thing for strays.”

 

"But this one bites the hand that feeds him..." John nipped at Bobby's lower lip. He pulled away and rubbed his cheek against Bobby's. "And sometimes you have to put strays down..."

 

Bobby moved quickly, not even really thinking about what he was doing until he was literally leaning over top of John. He grinned smugly when John’s legs opened almost instinctively, letting him rest between them like he belonged there. “You’re one I don’t mind puttin’ down, Johnny.” He planted his hands on either side of John’s head, lowering himself down to drag a hot stripe up the side of his neck. “‘Sides, I always liked ‘em feisty.”

 

John groaned and moved his neck to allow Bobby better access on his explorations. "On the floor? We haven't done it on the floor since..."

 

“Don’t care,” Bobby growled, grinding into John. “Just you and me here, no boys. I’m gonna take ya twice on every available surface I can find.”

 

"I'm not gonna cum in my jeans," John warned and his hand moved down to grab Bobby's hips. When Bobby just growled at him and ground down harder, "You can do the laundry then."

 

“I’ll buy you… a new pair,” came the panted reply before Bobby covered John’s mouth with his own, sucking the man’s tongue into his mouth. 

 

John let himself get lost in the sensations and familiar touch of Bobby. When they first started up together, John used to compare his touch with Mary's, even though he didn't want to. Now Mary's touch was a distant, cherished memory. Bobby was gritty and real. Where Mary belonged to his old life, this felt right with Bobby now.

 

“I must not be doin’ this right,” Bobby whispered, one hand hiking John’s shirt up. “You’re still thinkin’.”

 

"Just thinking about you," John admitted and hissed when Bobby pinched his nipple. "Thinkin' that you're a sadist!"

 

Bobby’s laughter rumbled loud in the room. “Ya never complained before. I could go start a fire in the fireplace and throw some blankets down if ya really want.” He bent his head down, biting lightly on one pale brown nipple before tonguing one particularly nasty scar next to it. Succubus flashed through his mind followed directly with Dean’s first kill. That had been the start of their relationship. 

 

John's hand came up to cup the back of Bobby's head, holding him down against his chest. "Next time..."

 

Bobby shifted, trying to get more leverage as he thrust down into John. This wasn’t the usual way it went down. Most times it was after a really bad hunt gone wrong, when John came in furious and pissed off. Other times it was fighting that led to it, rough and hard and fast. Yeah, so they’d fought earlier, but it was different. It wasn’t hurried or rough. Bobby moaned when John’s hands slipped into the back pockets of his jeans, hauling him closer as well as harder. “Fuck, John!”

 

John shifted his legs apart even more, feeling Bobby settle between them. He pulled Bobby in closer at the same time pushing his hips up. The pain always gave this an edge, almost bittersweet. Their groans echoed in the rooms, mingled with heavy breaths and mumbled curses. John's head thrashed on the floor. "Damn... Bobby..."

 

“Give it up, Johnny,” came the reply as Bobby’s hand snuck up to take a handful of John’s hair, tugging on it to turn the man’s head to the side. He attacked the skin with harsh nips and bites, wanting to see the blood rise to the surface. Not so much marking him as a reminder that John was still alive, still very much there. “C’mon, know you’re close.”

 

John's face scrunched up as he tried to fight it. He wanted to stay in the moment when he didn't have to think about anything else but pleasure. His hips pumped up and the rough denim added to the friction.

 

Bobby watched as emotions warred across John’s face. Leave it to the damn man to fight even the most basic needs. Time to change tactics then. Wrapping his arms around John’s upper arms, he tumbled to his left pulling John with him as he went until he was staring up at the younger man from underneath of him. “Do it, Johnny,” Bobby groaned. “Let it all go.”

 

Bobby's tone was a command that John responded to instinctually. His mouth opened on a silent scream as his body tensed. It was so intense and he felt Bobby holding him through all of it. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to fight this moment of weakness.

 

Eyes trained on John’s face as he came, it took a moment for Bobby to even realize his own body was thrumming as he arched up into John one last time before he was coming himself. He held tight to the body above him, taking John’s weight easily when he finally slumped against him. Rough pants of air wafted against his neck and he could feel the sweat trickling from John’s forehead onto him. He let his hands slip up beneath John’s tee shirt, trying to calm the aftershocks out of him.

 

Bobby watched as John's forearm came up to hide and shelter his eyes. He suspected that maybe John was trying to hide and fight tears. "Johnny..."

 

It wasn’t until Bobby rolled them both onto their sides that he realized John was laughing, honest to goodness laughing as silently as he could. Brow furrowed and curious, he poked John in the ribs. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

John squirmed away from Bobby's finger and just laughed harder. He cracked one eye open and snorted. "We just made out like teenagers and came in our pants on the floor. And now my back hurts..."

 

*********

 

John shook his head and groaned, watching as Bobby once again fiddled with getting the tree to stand perfectly straight in the corner. “Why do you have to make a production out of everything, Singer? We don’t need all of this!” John waved his hands at all the gaudy Christmas tinsel, lights, and figurines that decorated the room. “You really think any of those Christmas balls are gonna end up on the tree? You’ll be lucky the boys don’t start launching them like grenades the minute you let them start decorating it.”

 

"If they do, then that's fine," Bobby said, ignoring John and straightening the tree again. "And stop whining, you ol' grinch. I'm going to give your boys a Christmas whether you like it or not."

 

John dropped onto the couch with sigh, picking up his cup of coffee off of the table and taking a sip. “You do this one time and they’ll expect it every year. I’m just trying to warn you is all.” 

 

"Fine by me," Bobby said. The tree still looked crooked and he tried leaning it a smidge to the right this time. "You can always drop them off here and go sit in a snow bank out back for all I care."

 

John snorted. “So much for the ‘good will toward men’ part then.” He got a one fingered answer from Bobby and laughed. The sound of a vehicle in the driveway got his attention and he sat his coffee back down on the table. “Not sure I’m ready for this. Even after talking it out with them I still feel like they probably hate me after everything that happened.”

 

"Just wait," Bobby said. And sure enough John got his answer when the boys tore out of the back seat of Jim's station wagon and went barrelling straight for John screaming, "Dad!" at the top of their lungs on the front porch of the house.

 

John couldn’t remember a time recently where both of his sons had tackled him to the ground outside of sparring, but there he was with the both of them leaning over top of him laughing and smiling. Sammy’s voice was the first one to finally get though to him after several seconds of just taking it all in. “…and it was really cool, dad. That inner tube bounced all the way down and Dean ended up face first in the snow.

 

Dean’s fist connected with Sam’s shoulder. “Dude, I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been all ten times of girly screamin’ and waving your arms around like you were gonna die.”

 

"Hey, boys," John managed to grunt out. "Sounds like you had fun." He always missed them when they visited Jim, but they always got to be children in ways they couldn't with him when they visited the Pastor.

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders and sat up, giving his dad some room to do the same. “It was okay.” Looking up at Bobby, Dean gave a soft smile. “Everything go okay here, Bobby?”

 

John’s heart nearly broke as he watched his son actually check in on him. He shouldn’t have had to do that. Wasn’t right that his own son had to keep tabs on him in any way, shape, or form. And even that small smile on his face didn’t hide some of the fear and anxiety in Dean’s green eyes.

 

He reached out and chucked Dean's chin. "Everything's good now, bud. Thank you for taking good care of your brother... and me."

 

Dean blushed ever so slightly and gave a quick nod. He stood up and walked back over the car, reaching in to pull their duffels out of the backseat while Pastor Jim managed to make it up the steps.

 

“How you fairing, John? Boys kept wanting me to call and check in on you here but I told them probably best to let you work it out on your own.” Jim reached out and tugged Sammy off of John’s lap, taking a second to ruffle the boy’s hair before shooing him off to help his brother.

 

John could see that Jim's friendly exterior hid a whole lot of worry and even apprehension at returning the boys. John got up and shook Jim's hand. "As well as can be expected. Thanks for taking my boys."

 

“You know that’s never been a problem in the past for me. Your boys are good kids, John. Just hope that you keep in mind that grown ups need as much of a break as they do.” Jim’s voice was steady and low, enough to make sure that he got his point across to John without the boys taking notice of the underlying tones of the conversation.

 

John looked down and scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Of course Bobby had come out to stand behind him when Jim said that. "Yeah... right. We're good, thanks."

 

Nodding his head, Jim looked over John’s shoulder at Bobby. When the answering nod came from the man, Jim stuck his hands in his pockets. “Alright, I’ll leave you to listen to your boys’ ramblings about the last few days then. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me, John. I mean that.”

 

Bobby laid his hand on John's shoulder and looked Jim straight in the eyes. "Thanks, Jim. The Winchesters will be staying here for a while if you need to reach them."

 

There was a sudden high pitch squealing and all three of the men turned to find Dean with Sammy slung across his shoulders. “Put me down! Put me down!” 

 

It brought a bout of laughter from all of them. It also gave John an opportunity to shrug out from beneath Bobby’s hand on his shoulder. Give him some breathing room at the sudden display of possessiveness that had come about. He bounded down the steps and retrieved his youngest son from Dean’s grasp. Hoisting Sammy up on his shoulders, he spun the boy around a moment before heading back to the steps. “C’mon then. Come and see what Bobby’s done to the inside of the house for you. Looks like someone raided the nearest trailer park for the gaudiest Christmas decorations ever made.”

 

Despite his initial exuberance at seeing his farther again, Dean had been trying to be more solemn and grown up now. But that mask cracked the minute he walked into Bobby's house and saw the mismatched, cheap and gaudy decorations hanging all over the place. When he saw the undecorated and still lopsided tree, he beamed, "Dude, a Christmas tree..."

 

Sammy scrunched his face up a bit, cocking one head to the side. “Why’s it leaning like that? They’re supposed to stand straight.” He moved closer to the tree and noticed the piles of boxes to the left, half hidden behind one of the couches. There was a multitude of lights and ornaments there. Some of them were old and cracked, the colour peeling off of them but others looked to be brand new. Reaching out, he lifted the two off the top. One had his name in red cursive the other was Dean’s in green. Their birth dates were also on them and each had a different Christmas scene.

 

"Are these for us?" Sammy asked.

 

"Duh!" Dean said and smacked Sam in the arm. "They have our names on them, doofus."

 

Sam reached out and smacked Dean back, which only earned him a wicked grin from his older brother. Bobby stepped in between the two of them, giving them both a look that clearly stated ‘knock it off’. “It’s a bit of tradition. Everyone should have their own ornament. So, these are yours.” Bobby tapped Sam on the shoulder and nodded towards another box. He leaned down and whispered into the younger boy’s ear. “Why don’t you take that other little box to your daddy? I think there’s something in there for him, too.”

 

Sammy looked at the little box that was all battered up and taped in the corners. He nodded and picked it up, taking it over to his dad. "Bobby said this one was for you."

 

John accepted the box and then threw a questioning look at Bobby. The older man diverted his gaze and cleared his throat. “Alright, boys. Take your gear to your room and get it stowed. I got to get dinner started if we want to decorate this tree later tonight.”

 

Both boys bounded away, leaving Bobby and John standing next to the undecorated tree. Grumbling under his breath about dinner, Bobby headed out into the kitchen leaving behind a rather curious Winchester with a very old box.

 

John looked down at it and then back up at Bobby who was now in the kitchen rattling around some pots. He opened the box and pulled out a very odd, handmade Christmas ornament. It was two shell casings welded together to make a cross. In the brass was carved in a shaky, messy script 'John' and the year they met.

 

********

 

_He had been stupid going out alone, leaving the boys in the motel room had been the only thing on his mind. Dean was only six and Sammy was too much of a handful to keep in the car. Not that it would have been an option with him out on the hunt for this particular demon._

_Stupid to do this alone, should’ve gotten some kind of help. Should have called Daniels for some kind of backup. It was a little too late for those kinds of thoughts as John found himself thrown back against the wall again. The damn thing had ripped him up good and his gun with the blessed wrought iron rounds was too far away for him to even think about getting a hold of. Rank breath wafted over his face as the demon leaned in close, hissing at him with luminescent eyes and dripping fangs._

_“Winchessssster.”_

_He managed to turn his head away, the panic rising in him as he thought of his boys being left all alone without him. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_John heard the click of a rifle. "I take it that's your name, Winchester," an unfamiliar name called out. "I'd duck if I was you!"_

_John barely managed to duck in time, letting his body go completely lax and slipping down the wall before the sound of the shotgun rang out in the small room of the old house. Eyes tightly closed, he stood up, wiping at the gore left behind on himself. With barely a conscious thought, he started forward stumbling as he tried to make sense of what was going on. In the next second, his fist was flying through the air and making contact with the man’s jaw._

_The man fell back, but not before the butt of his shotgun connected with John's gut. "Great way to show gratitude," the stranger muttered clutching his jaw._

_“You could’ve gotten me killed!” John huffed out, clutching his stomach. “What in the hell were you thinking? And how did you find me?”_

_"I didn't find you!" The stranger growled back, pointing the rifle at John. "I found **it**. And I wouldn't have hit you unless I wanted to. I'm a damn good shot. But now you're tempting me."_

_John growled but reached out to offer the man a hand to get back up. “Not used to having another hunter poach in on my game.”_

_"Not used to another hunter coming into my territory," Bobby said, considering John for a minute, then taking his hand._

_“Your territory? Since when did that happen? Last time I checked it was whoever showed up first to take care of the problem at hand.” John pushed his way past the now standing man, heading out the front door of the house and towards the Impala._

_Bobby grabbed the spent shell casings and pocketed them. There was no sense in leaving evidence lying around. "Didn't look like you were capable of handling the problem."_

_John unlocked the door to the car and grabbed at the flask under the front seat. “You are one aggravating son of a bitch, ya know that?” He took a swig and then offered it to the man in front of him. “You gotta name or do I have to make one up?”_

_The man accepted the flask and knocked a shot back. “Yeah, Bobby Singer. But you, friend, can call my your knight in shinin’ armour!”_

 

*****

 

"What?" Bobby asked nonchalantly, turning around to check on the state of the vegetables in the pot. "You going soft or something in the head? You make of it what you want. I find it kind of funny myself."

 

"I saw the rest of those boxes," John said, snagging a raw bit of carrot to munch on. "You've been putting away ornaments for the boys for years." Then he held out the bullet cross, dangling from his index finger. "But this is something special. Weird, but special."

 

Bobby turned around, wiping his hands on a dish towel before tossing it into the sink. “I wasn’t in to getting some glittery piece of tin and having it engraved. Way too girly for my taste and you’d probably have decked me one for it. Figured it was a bit on the odd side but everyone needs an ornament of their own. Thought it was appropriate enough. Got a problem with it, Winchester?”

 

John smirked, "Not one bit, Singer."

 

There was the sound of a slight cough in the doorway and both men jumped apart as if burned. Bobby turned quickly around, making it look like he was working on dinner again. He knew for a fact that John’s face would be redder than all get out.

 

Dean took a few steps into the kitchen then leaned against the counter top. “I could say something right now…”

 

“But you won’t will you, son?” came John’s rather low voice as he gave his son a warning look.

 

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I like Bobby. That say enough?"

 

John shook his head and started out into the living room, letting the smile stretch across his face once he knew neither of them could see it. “Did everyone around here suddenly turn into girls?”

 

"No... just a room full of something else," Dean said under his breath, acknowledging the one conversation he and his father had not yet had.

 

John’s smile turned into a grimace. With everything that had gone on he and Dean still needed to have a chat. He’d tried putting it out of his mind but Dean found ways to bring it back up every once in awhile, in an offhanded way. The guilt gnawed at him and he turned back around for a minute, watching as Dean stared at his own feet, boots scuffing the linoleum floor.

 

“Hey, Dean-o, why don’t you come help me find a sheet out of Bobby’s closet to lie around under the tree? Don’t need to be stepping barefoot on pine needles.”

 

Dean smirked for a minute and bit his lip. "I'm not making a closet joke..."

 

John walked up and cuffed Dean upside his head. “Alright, smart ass.” He steered his son out of the kitchen and threw a look back over his shoulder at Bobby who just gave him a nod and a thumbs up sign for good luck.

 

"We don't have to talk about this..." Dean offered, remembering his father 'birds and bees' speech with pain. "I just wanted you to know that I know that you know and that I know what I didn't know before."

 

John didn’t say a word until they were in Bobby’s room with the door shut. “You, sit.” He pointed at Dean and then the bed. Running a hand back through his hair, John took a deep breath and then took a seat himself. “I’ve done a real awful job with avoidance on this subject since that day you had to drive me here. I wanna apologize for that. I guess I was kind of hoping you’d…” John waved his hand around in the air for a moment before putting it back in his lap. “I bungled up the last ‘talk’ we had and that should have been easy compared to this. So, you ask me whatever it is you have on your mind. I promise to not get mad, not be judgemental, or make any inappropriate jokes about it.”

 

"Did hunting turn you like this?"

 

John had to keep himself from falling off the bed. That was a question he was totally unprepared for. “Wha-” John had to reign himself in for a moment, trying hard to figure out how to go about this. “No! Look, you know I loved, and still love, your mother right?”

 

"Yeah, but... both you and Bobby... and me... are you sure? Cause Sammy could be next when he grows up."

 

John chuckled a bit and felt Dean shift beside him, obviously not liking that he was laughing. “You would do this to me.” John turned a bit to look at his eldest son. “I know that with me, I never really looked at another guy before Bobby. It has more to do with the fact that, well…there’s a bond there between us. A strong one at that. He saved my life the first time I met him and don’t think that means I went all damsel in distress and totally fell for him. He was a constant pain that first year I knew him. We fought every time we managed to run into each other. But he gained my trust. He didn’t hold back on me, told me what he was thinking. I can’t say how it is for you, Dean. Only you know the reason as to why you’ve started looking at guys. I honestly don’t care why, so long as you know what it is that you want and what makes you happy. We live a complicated life. We’ve got to learn to take what happiness we can find while we’re here.”

 

Dean looked at his father and blinked. He didn't think he father would give him such an involved answer. "I..." Dean started and stopped, folding his arm over his chest. "I'm never getting married... or gonna settle down. Not like you."

 

John grinned. “Yeah, well I wouldn’t exactly say we’re settled. But I can tell you that I thought some of the same things and look what happened to me.” He stood up and went to Bobby’s closet pulling out an old sheet for under the tree. “Things tend to just happen, Dean. You can’t control your heart and your feelings, no matter how hard you fight it.”

 

"Sure, dad," Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just… I know that no one is gonna catch Dean Winchester."

 

“Sure thing, son. What do you say we get back out there and see if Bobby’s got the food about ready yet? I’m starving.”

 

Dean jumped up with a grin. “Sounds good.” They barely made it down the hall when Sammy’s voice piped up from the other bedroom. “Dean! Dean, I can’t find my science book!”

 

Dean stopped mid-stride and poked his head back in the room. “You were the last one to have it. Besides, its Christmas break and we don’t have to mail that stuff into the school until the second week of January.”

 

John chuckled at Sammy’s exasperated face. “Dee-eean, please help me find it! I wanna get it all finished up **now**.”

 

"You better hope you didn't leave it in Pastor Jim's car," Dean chided and when Sammy's face started to crumble at even the idea of it, he quickly added, "Though I'm sure you didn't. Okay? Why don't we help Dad decorate Bobby's crooked tree, then I'll find it. I promise... even if Pastor Jim has to drive it back here."

 

Sammy gave the room a long forlorn look before shrugging his shoulders. “Alright.”

 

Dean turned to look at his father and rolled his eyes before grabbing Sammy by the shoulders and steering him out into the living room. The smell of chicken and dumplings filled the whole house, making all the Winchesters’ mouths water. Bobby turned to find all three of them standing in the doorway, just watching. Bobby took a step back and held up a potholder and the potato masher. “Back, stay back! Ya’ll look like you’re ready to strip the flesh right from my bones to get to the damn food.”

 

"I'm hungry..." Sammy whined, looking at the food, then at Dean.

 

John groaned, "Just imagine when they're **both** teenagers, Bobby. Now hand over the drumstick, boy."

 

“Who you calling, boy?” Bobby smirked. “Don’t make me beat your ass in front of your own kids. Sit down, all of ya. Or else you won’t be eating at all.” Bobby watched with rapt attention as the three Winchesters scrambled to the chairs around the table, all of them elbowing for more space. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “This isn’t some wayside diner, act right.”

 

"Do we have to say grace? We do that at Pastor Jim's place," Sammy asked.

 

"Grace!" Dean parroted and reached for a chunk of chicken as Bobby sat the platter down.

 

John reached out and grabbed Dean’s wrist and squeezed. “Sure, Sammy. If you wanna say grace you go right ahead.” John placed Dean’s hand firmly on the table and gave him a hard look. “Bow your head, Dean.”

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak. “But we’ve never…”

 

"We're being civilized," John reprimanded him. "For once."

 

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled, eyeing the chicken with a look of pure predatory desire.

 

Sammy started saying grace and John had to crack his eyes open just enough to keep an eye on Dean’s greedy hands. It was a long, drawn out grace and John had to stomp on Dean’s toes three times before Sammy finished up with an ‘amen’. That’s when civility stopped altogether as hands grabbed for the different dishes.

 

“Dean, more chicken on this plate…”

 

“Sammy, quit hogging all the biscuits…”

 

“Bobby, could you hand me the peas…”

 

“Sure thing, Johnny…”

 

“Hey, do not throw the biscuits across the table!”

 

"Dad, Dean stabbed me with his fork!"

 

John looked up at Bobby in exasperation before replying to Sam’s outburst. “Dean Winchester, if you’re intent on stabbing things tonight I’m sure I can find a way to work you through some new training instead of decorating the tree.”

 

"But dad... he was trying to steal food off my plate!" Dean protested.

 

John took a bite of his chicken. “Samuel, you have your own food. Quit snitching off Dean’s plate. If you want more there’s plenty here on the table.” John shot Bobby a murderous look when the man covered his mouth with a napkin in a vain attempt not to laugh.

 

"But Dean's looks better..." Sammy whined. With that, Dean just sighed and gave Sam the chunk of white meat he had been defending only minutes ago. He was used to Sammy stealing off his plate since he was a toddler.

 

Silence descended again around the table as everyone ate their food. It was blissfully quiet until all of sudden Dean leaned back and belched long and hard, one hand patting his stomach. Sammy burst into giggles and he ended up knocking his glass of milk over. That set Dean off into his own fit of laughter and had him half falling out of his chair.

 

The boys where howling with laughter and John just shook his head with an amused expression. This is why he lived through the pain. He looked up and locked eyes with Bobby. "Thanks for reminding me."

 

Bobby lifted up his glass in a salute. “Any time, Johnny. Any time.” He waited a few more seconds for the boys to settle down. “Now, how ‘bout you boys give an old man a hand so we can start working on that tree.”

 

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance with each other before they started clapping enthusiastically. Dean even threw in a whistle for good measure which had John burying his face in his hands as he laughed.

 

“Not what I meant but, hey, everyone needs an ego boost every once in awhile,” Bobby grinned and flung a pea at both of the boys. “C’mon clean up time. Then the tree.”

END.


End file.
